


not fast enough

by xxpaynoxx



Series: My Bellarke Drabbles [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, angsty Bellarke, sad!bellamy, woop woop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am NOT crying. There's just a very large branch in my eye. I'm okay. I'm fine.</p><p>NO I'M NOT I'M SOBBING I DON'T KNOW HOW I WROTE THIS WITHOUT BREAKING DOWN OH MY GOD</p><p>Sorry not sorry.</p></blockquote>





	not fast enough

** i. grounders **

When Clarke confronted Bellamy about Finn’s planned meeting with the Grounders, Bellamy almost lost his shit.

“He did _what_?” Bellamy hissed, and Clarke’s hands intertwined together as she bit her lip and looked at the ground. “He...he organized a meeting. With the Grounders. He wants me to meet their leader and talk about peace,” she said, her voice getting shakier and more unsure as Bellamy glared at her.

He shook his head. “No way. I’m not letting either of you out of this camp. God, he’s going to get us all killed,” Bellamy muttered, and began to walk away when he felt Clarke’s hand firmly grip onto his arm. He turned back around and blinked, shocked at the steely look that Clarke was giving him.

She didn’t look like a princess. She looked like a commander. A ridiculously _hot_ commander.

“I need backup. Bring Jasper and Raven with you, and follow us,” she said, her voice like stone. Bellamy took a while to process what she said (he was too busy being lost in her cold blue eyes. _How did he not notice how fucking blue they were?_ ), but after some time, he nodded and began to walk away again. As his name rolled off of Clarke’s lips again, he turned back, and her eyes were narrowed.

“Bring guns.”

**...**

“What are you looking for? You haven’t stopped glancing behind you ever since we left,” Finn stated as Clarke glanced behind her for the fiftieth time. “Finn, you never know. Those Grounders could be stalking us,” Clarke said simply, turning around. Finn shrugged and kept moving, but Clarke lingered behind. She dropped a bunch of acorns she had been holding in her hand onto the forest floor, and then ran to catch up with Finn.

**…**

Acorns. They were on the right track.

Bellamy beckoned to Raven and Jasper, who were dawdling behind, talking idly to ease the thick tension in the air. They traveled quickly, with Raven slipping snarky comments about how Bellamy was only rushing because he didn’t want to see Clarke hurt and was rewarded with a light punch in the shoulder by Jasper.

Finally, they arrived at the treeline. Bellamy stayed back behind the ferns, peeking through as three horses (Jesus Christ, _horses_? they _exist_?) cantered out of the forest. The two black ones were ridden by warriors with black armor, and the third was a light chestnut with a splash of white along his face.

A woman rode it.

She was tall and lanky, clad with furs and studded armor. Her brown hair was braided with feathers and leaves, and her brown eyes were smudged with two thick black lines that went from around her eyes down to her chin.

Bellamy watched Finn and Clarke emerge from the treeline on the bridge, and Clarke said something to Finn before stepping forward without him. Raven tensed as she saw the look in Finn’s eyes, and Jasper was…

What _was_ he doing?

Bellamy hissed his name, but the boy kept moving towards the lake, his eyes looking through the lens on his gun. “Oh my God,” Jasper whispered, the gun slowly falling from his shoulder until the tip was resting in the shallows of the lake. When Jasper turned around, Bellamy’s heart sank into his stomach.

“There are Grounders in the trees. It’s a trap,” Jasper whispered, his voice rising in panic. Bellamy looked through his sharpshooter and noted two Grounders, both armed with crossbows pointing directly at Clarke.

Raven was the one who reacted first, pulling Jasper back behind the treeline. It was clear that the meeting was not going well; the Grounder commander looked downright pissed from her stance, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed.

“That Grounder woman looks pissed,” Raven remarked. Bellamy bit his lip, his hands tensing on his gun. “Our princess has that effect,” he muttered, getting a short cackle out of Jasper and an eyeroll from Raven.

Clarke kept gesturing wildly, but the other woman did not yield. Bellamy had seen that look before; it was the look of a predator watching for the best place to strike its prey. Bellamy's heart began to race as Clarke stopped explaining and the commander eyed her coldly. _This was where the predator attacked the prey,_ Bellamy thought.

As soon as the commander lifted her arm to her opposing wrist, Bellamy took aim and shot.

The woman yelped, the gunshot wound on her arm blooming with blood. She turned away and ran for her horse, and Clarke was stunned. She whipped her head back and made eye contact with Bellamy as Finn yelled her name.

The first arrow landed between Clarke’s feet, and she ran.

**...**

More gunshots fell from Bellamy and Raven, while Jasper had sprinted off to cover Finn and Clarke. As soon as Raven shot down the second Grounder, they ran. None of them stopped until they got back into camp, and were met by a furious Octavia.

“What the _hell_ , Bellamy?” she roared, smacking her brother’s cheek with enough force to cause him staggering back, clutching his stinging skin. Clarke immediately jumped between the two siblings, and held up her hands. “Octavia, this was _not_ Bellamy’s fault,” she explained slowly, and Octavia seemed to relax upon hearing those words. She pushed around Clarke and engulfed Bellamy in a hug. “I was so worried, because you weren’t here when I woke up, and I thought something had happened to you guys,” she whimpered.

**...**

Clarke keeps forgetting that Octavia is still young.

She’s only seventeen, so she’s a year younger than Clarke, but you can barely tell when she’s screaming her head off at Finn.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Finn, what were you thinking? Grounders are killing us, and you think that just by meeting with them that they were just going to back away like little puppies?” Octavia bellowed, before turning away and pressing her hands to her temples.

Finn glared at Bellamy. “It might have worked if your jackass brother hadn’t brought along guns,” Finn muttered, and Octavia whirled back around to face him. “And how the _fuck_ were you supposed to defend yourselves if he hadn’t?” she snarled.

Bellamy was silent, his eyebrows raising slightly at Octavia’s choice of language. Clarke tried not to look at Finn or Octavia, and Raven was glowering at Finn in the corner. “Not everyone is friendly here, Finn. They don’t just conform to your rules because you seem nice,” she said, her voice like ice. She then whipped around and walked out of the tent, Finn following her with various forms of apology trailing from his lips.

Octavia threw her hands in the air. “I need a drink,” she announced loudly, stomping out of the tent in search of Jasper and Monty. Clarke realized that it was very quiet in the tent, and she looked up to meet Bellamy’s intense gaze.

“Thanks for saving me,” she whispered. Bellamy shrugged. “I did what I had to do. Couldn’t let our princess die, right?” he said with a small smirk. Clarke huffed, hitting his shoulder lightly as she walked out of the tent, and Bellamy couldn’t help but think about how scared and small she looked against the Grounder commander.

**ii. wolves**

Clarke was supposed to be back by now.

Bellamy had worn a rut inside of the camp, not even stopping to drink some water that Octavia offered him. Raven had told him that she’d come back by dusk, but it was dark and there was no sign of her. Jasper had come out around midnight and told him that waiting was useless and that the kids needed him, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

After everyone had gone to bed, Bellamy grabbed a gun and went out on his own.

Miller had tried to stop him, but he couldn’t bear to make him stay with that look of desperation in his eyes. Miller let him go, sitting back as Bellamy rushed off into the night, thinking about how Octavia was going to whip his ass if he didn’t come back by dawn.

**…**

Bellamy knew better than to call out Clarke’s name in the dead of night, so instead he sought out her trail. The first thing he found was her shoe print, still fresh in the mud. Her tracks lead east, towards the river. As soon as Bellamy stood up from inspecting her trail, a bloodcurdling scream cut through the air, and Bellamy was running.

**…**

The first thing he saw was her hair.

It was almost white in the moonlight, like an angel halo, and her small hands were clinging to the grass around her with white knuckles. She was facing away from him, and seemed to be breathing. A pool of blood was forming from her leg, which had deep bite marks in it. Bellamy took the gun off of his back, his finger resting on the trigger as he got to the treeline.

Apparently, something else had gotten there first.

It was massive. Bellamy had never seen a canine that looked like that before, but then again, he’d only seen pictures of dogs in books. It was jet black, and the only way Bellamy even knew it was there was from its large yellow eyes. It was built, with its pelt rippling across its muscles as it stood in the clearing, eyeing Clarke. Its muzzle was dark red with blood.

Yeah, _definitely_ not a dog. So what the hell was it?

Bellamy prayed that it didn’t smell him.

Clarke suddenly moaned, stretching out slowly. The animal growled, baring its teeth, and Clarke’s body shot up, looking over at the animal. “Leave me alone,” she whispered, frozen in fear. As the animal stood, trying to plan out its second attack (because according to the wet blood on its teeth, it had already had a go), Bellamy looked it over.

Clearly it was too big to be a dog, and not big enough to be a bear, which was a relief. But as the animal leaned back and let out a loud howl at the sky, Bellamy’s blood chilled. It was a fucking _wolf_. Because they _so_ needed an entire radioactively-strengthened, probably rabid wolf pack on their tail.

That’s when it pounced.

Bellamy’s thought process slowed, and all he could hear in his ears was Clarke’s scream and his mind was racing and all he could think was  _get to Clarke_ _just fucking get to Clarke she’s helpless fucking save her she can’t die you can’t fucking let her die Bellamy Blake don’t you fucking dare-_

And the wolf’s body was lying in the middle of the clearing, Clarke’s head was on his shoulder and his gun was smoking at the barrel. She whimpered, pressing herself even closer to him, and he didn’t have much of a choice other than to wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered, as Clarke’s tears began to soak into his jacket. Her body shook with sobs and he began to rock her, humming a song his mother had sung to him when they were on the Ark and everything was fine and dandy and nobody was being locked up or drugged or Floated.

After a while, Clarke’s sobs subsided, and Bellamy looked down to see her eyes closed, snuffles coming out of her mouth as she slept. Bellamy had never fully seen Clarke in this light, or this close for that matter. Her eyelashes were long, brushing her cheeks. Her face was round and babyish, and her lips were cracked from not drinking enough water. And for some reason, Bellamy Blake longed to kiss those lips hard.

But he shook himself. He shouldn’t be getting a hard-on for his co-leader when she was bleeding out in the middle of the forest; that was just wrong. He picked Clarke up gently, carrying her bridal style and tried not to hit a lot of roots or turbulence along the way. Before they got back to camp, Clarke murmured in her sleep.

“Thanks for saving me.”

Bellamy smiled. “Anytime, princess.”

**iii. the failure**

Clarke had insisted on going hunting.

Bellamy didn’t exactly want to say no, since they did need some more food and medical supplies, but why would Clarke want to go hunting? She wasn’t even a hunter. But, Bellamy agreed, since at least it would give them some time alone together.

They’d been walking for five silent minutes when Bellamy decided to break the silence.

“So, Octavia’s leg is healing well. She’s still itching to get back out here,” he said slowly. His sister had gotten into a fierce argument with the bramble bush, and needless to say, the bush won. It had cut deep into her leg, making her immobile for a few days while the wound healed.

Clarke nodded, smiling, and it was the most beautiful thing Bellamy had ever seen.

They found some robin eggs, and Bellamy decided to make a joke about Clarke taking so long with them.

“Jesus, Clarke, please tell me they haven’t hatched,” Bellamy said, and Clarke’s head appeared through the branches, a wide smile plastered across her face that would make the Cheshire Cat jealous. “No, of course not, but you wouldn’t turn down a few robin babies, would you?” she asked, pouting her lips.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, and Clarke laughed.

Then, in less than a second, there was an arrow in Clarke’s stomach and a bloodstain blooming on her shirt.

Clarke looked down at the arrow, almost confused, and toppled out of the tree. The robin eggs crashed onto the tree’s roots, and Bellamy caught Clarke’s body, his hands trembling as he laid her out on the ground, her head on his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” Bellamy whispered, tearing off a part of his shirt to try to stop the bleeding, but it soaked right through. He took off his jacket and even his whole shirt to try to stop the blood from flowing out, but nothing worked. That’s when Clarke’s small, pale hand rested on his.

His wide eyes met hers, and she looked so fucking calm. “Bellamy, _stop_ ,” she protested weakly, but he didn’t. He couldn't. “No, Clarke, I’m going to save you. I’m going to _fucking_ save you and you’re going to be just fine,” he said, his voice shaking as he pressed his ruined t-shirt into the wound.

Clarke squeezed his hand.

Bellamy looked at Clarke’s face, which had gone white. “Bellamy, please...I know when I’m dying,” she whispered, her sentence getting cut off as she coughed, blood beginning to trail down her chin. Bellamy’s hands began to shake, and he could feel tears pricking his eyes.

“Clarke Griffin, you are _not_ going to die. I’m going to save you like a fucking hero like I always do and you’re going to be okay,” Bellamy stated, his voice wavering as he kept pressure on the wound and grasped on of Clarke’s clammy hands in his other.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she muttered, her lips breaking into a small smile. Bellamy tried to smirk through his tears, but as she coughed again, he could feel his heart snapping in his chest. The blood was everywhere now, and a puddle had formed underneath Clarke’s back. The arrow was still in her stomach, but Bellamy knew, deep down, that there wasn’t anything he could do.

“Don’t forget about me, okay?” she whispered, her hand reaching up and wiping away the tears on his cheeks, tears he hadn’t realized he’d let slip. Bellamy sniffled, catching her hand in his own. “I love you,” he whispered, and inwardly scoffed at himself and the fact that he let Clarke know he was in love with her as she was dying.

They’d never have kids. She would never experience how loving he could be. She’d never get married. They’d never be able to grow old together. The thoughts of the future flitted through Bellamy’s brain, and they only made the tears fall harder.

“I love you too, Bellamy Blake, even if you’re a total ass sometimes,” Clarke rasped, and coughed again, this time with more blood. “Remember me,” she added afterwards, and her neck went limp in his hands, her last breath falling off of her lips.

Bellamy began shaking harder, sobs coming out of his throat with reckless abandon. “I wasn’t fast enough,” he sobbed, pulling Clarke’s rapidly cooling body to his own. He pushed his nose into her hair, breathing in her lavender scent and trying to forget the blood on her body and the still heart he was holding in his hands.

And just like that, Bellamy Blake broke.

**Author's Note:**

> I am NOT crying. There's just a very large branch in my eye. I'm okay. I'm fine.
> 
> NO I'M NOT I'M SOBBING I DON'T KNOW HOW I WROTE THIS WITHOUT BREAKING DOWN OH MY GOD
> 
> Sorry not sorry.


End file.
